


An Unexpected Guest

by stellatundra



Category: Fitz and the Fool Trilogy - Robin Hobb
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, Yuletide, Yuletide 2015, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 17:10:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5383682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellatundra/pseuds/stellatundra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Fitz enjoys the Winterfest festivities with Bee, he gets word of an unexpected guest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Guest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Isis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis/gifts).



> I just wanted to give Fitz, Bee and the Fool the happy Winterfest they never got to have in Fool’s Assassin. Because what is Yuletide for if not happy-ending fix-it fics where all the characters get what they most want for ~~Christmas~~ er, Winterfest, right?
> 
> Alternative ending to Fool’s Assassin which assumes that after Fitz rescues the puppies they all go home safely to Withywoods without Bee going missing or encountering the Fool as a beggar.

I caught Bee gazing at the holly crowns with an expression that could almost be described as wistful. I knew that she must miss her mother, to whom she had been closer than anyone else. I felt the same familiar ache of missing Molly, always sharpest at this time of year. Although my body did not age as other men’s did, still I felt older and wearier by the season. So much of what I had loved had been lost to me. Molly and the love of a good woman. Nighteyes and the freedom of running as a wolf, thinking as a wolf. The Fool and the keenest friendship I had ever known, and changing the world together. Without these three great loves of my life I felt thrice widowed, in different ways. 

I told myself I did not miss FitzChivalry Farseer, his life and responsibilities, his destiny and all the associated thrills and hardships of that long-ago life. I had earned my quiet retirement. And yet had it not been for Bee, it might well have been that I would have returned to Buckkeep by now. Withywoods without Molly had lost some of its lustre and had it not been for my little daughter, who is to say what scant solace I might have taken in these years as a widower on a lonely country estate. 

But Bee, unexpected as she had been and strange to me as she still was, even with all my efforts to understand her, was the centre of my world now. I loved her dearly and would do all I could for her, even though my powers as a father were sadly lacking, as I could not help but be aware. Indeed, while part of my desire to make this Winterfest a festival to remember was for Bee, in the hope that it would make her happy, part, too, was to demonstrate to Nettle and Riddle and all those who doubted my fitness to take care of her that Withywoods was a fit home -- and myself a worthy guardian.

The logs were blazing mightily, more still cut and stacked by the fire, and the coloured bowls of salt were readied on a table nearby. When my stepsons were younger they had always shouted with delight to see the flames leap and change colour. I crossed over to the fire and offered a handful of the salt to Bee. She took it solemnly and tossed it into the blaze. Somehow the fierce colour and light served to make her pale face seem even more pale and unearthly than it did most times, almost as if she absorbed the colours into herself and became them. For an instant I was reminded of the Fool, of how he had taken on the appearance of Lord Golden, a transformation beyond make-up and posture and all Chade’s old disguises. 

There was a knock at the old oak door and I started, troubled by my recollections. It was any old man’s right to sit by the fire and remember old and distant times, but perhaps recent troubling events had brought them more to mind than before. I shook my head. Revel would take care of whomever was at the door. Unexpected guests at Winterfest were no novelty. True, the hall was not as full as it had been in past years. Since Molly’s death I had somewhat neglected my neighbours but invitations had been issued and, as always, none would be turned away. 

“Papa,” Bee said carefully, stealing my attention, “I would like to ask you something.”

“Anything,” I replied, surprised at the request. 

“Might I have one of the puppies for my own?”

For a moment I didn’t recollect the puppies. It had been a brutal encounter which I did not wish to dwell on. Like so many of my more violent and unhappy memories I had pushed it down, tried to bury it, almost as I had buried my memories by pouring them into a dragon many years ago. But the pups were saved, although scarred, and in safe hands now. I considered Bee’s request. It would be no bad thing for her to have a creature for which she might develop affection, and in time could grow to be both companion and protector. I only felt troubled that she had had to ask, that I had not thought of it first myself.

“Of course,” I said. “You may choose whichever one you wish, we will go together, the day after tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she said gravely.

“Season’s blessings,” I said, smiling at her. I tried to convey love and warmth in my tone of voice, as with another child I might have done with an embrace. 

I could hear Shun on the stairs speaking sharply to her maid about her earrings. She was spoiled, that much was clear. Had she been richer and more powerful she might have been as spoiled as she liked. As it was, though, her life was doomed to disappointment with such an attitude as she had that all the best was owed to her, and she would end sour and quarrelsome. 

I recalled that Bee had bought presents for her maid, Careful at the stalls, and it pleased me that my daughter would think of others in this way, without regard to station. I hoped I did not neglect my daughter but I was pleased I did not spoil her either. 

I wondered again about Shun’s parentage. Was Chade simply losing his sharpness as he grew older, or was there another reason for his laxity and indulgence where Shun was concerned? Could it be that the old spider was endangering my daughter to protect his own? 

I shook my head. Such mysteries could wait. Winterfest was a time for hospitality, so I would endeavour to think no ill of our reluctant guest. Even Shun at her most exacting must be pleased with the efforts the household had gone to for Winterfest this year. There was almost more greenery in the hall than there was in the surrounding woods, it seemed. The floor was cleared for dancing and the tables around stacked already with the food for tomorrow which would not spoil. Bowls of sugared nuts and raisins and flagons of mead and cider were laid out side by side with roasted meats, smoked fish and delicate pastries. There were gifts for the servants of new cloth and buttons. I was well pleased with everything

“Sir,” Revel interrupted me. “There is a person in your study.” His face was studied disapproval. Even full of seasonal cheer and disposed to open my home to guests I could not but be disconcerted. 

“In my study? But who showed them in there?”

“Nobody, sir. I offered them a guest room, a bath, some food and drink for they looked white as snow and ready to drop. But they said they would know where to go and walked right there as if in a trance.”

I felt almost as though I were in a trance myself as I strode to the door and turned the handle. I had half a mind to shake this interloper who had the effrontery to invade my private sanctuary and throw them out into the cold night. And yet there was a chill of unease and uncurling memory. There had been a messenger, another night such as this, fourteen or was it fifteen years since? Or was it longer? As I grew older time seemed to flow faster, like sand through my fingers, impossible to count every grain. 

I opened the door. He did not even look up. I did not know him, not at first. I saw only someone terribly thin and pale and shivering with cold, and my outrage melted away as swift as it had come. 

“Quick,” I said to Revel, “help me get him by the fire.”

Without argument Revel complied and together we lifted our unexpected guest from the chair where he lay slumped to the hearth, although in truth he was so light it would not have taxed the strength of one man. 

“Some furs and hot brandy,” I instructed Revel.

Only when Revel left the room did he lift his head, hood falling away, and turn his face in my direction. It seemed as though I could see the flickering flames reflected in his face, as I had seen in Bee not an hour before. The Fool had returned to me.

“Fitz,” he said, plaintive in the way of the very tired, “do you not know me?”

“I would know you anywhere, Beloved,” I answered him, which seemed to soothe him. 

“I dreamed you did not know me,” he said with a frown. 

“Only a dream,” I said, although I knew that was not the whole truth. I knew that for those of us with Skill-dreams and for Fool who could see the threads of all possible futures there was no such thing as “only”. 

It seemed impossible that I could be kneeling here by my own fire and holding the Fool in my arms. The sands of time shifted again and it was twenty years ago or more. The lurch of unexpected joy in my chest almost unbalanced me, and my grip on his shoulders tightened. His eyes closed and his mouth turned down as if in pain.

“Fool, have I hurt you?” I asked.

“Often,” he replied, with a quirk of his lips. Same old fool, maddening but so very dear to me. All at once I wondered how I had existed these years without him. It was as if now that he was here I was remembering him more fully, piece by piece. Perhaps I had buried my memories of him, too, perhaps it would have been too painful to remember just how much he meant to me. 

“Are you badly injured?” I tried again.

“Nothing that won’t keep,” he said with a shiver and a wry smile.

Revel returned with the requested items and, encouraging him to sit up, I wrapped the furs around the Fool’s shoulders as tenderly as I might have wrapped up Bee. It would be wrong to say that the brandy and the fire brought colour back to his cheeks for there was none, but his eyes seemed to brighten and he began to shiver less. He still winced as he shifted and I suspected his loose Jamaillian clothes hid an untold story of some woe. But I would not ask, not now. 

“I heard singing,” the Fool said, when the brandy was drained from his cup. 

“Singing and dancing, good food and good cheer,” I said, and then, when he seemed to look puzzled, “it is Winterfest.”

“Winterfest,” he said, as though the word was strange on his tongue, although I knew he had spent many a winter in Buckkeep over the years, and often provided the entertainment back when he had been King Shrewd’s fool. “It has been many a year since I have had Winterfest.”

“Then come,” I said, getting to my feet and extending a hand to him. He hesitated a moment before accepting it. Cold as his hand in mine was, I felt reluctant to part with it and we lingered by the fire without speaking, hands clasped, before Revel cleared his throat. I had almost forgotten he was there, so wrapped up in the delight and mystery of the Fool’s return. 

“Is there anything more I can fetch you, sir?” he asked. If he was troubled or taken aback by my manner with this apparent stranger, he did not show it. 

“If you will, please find a seat by the fire for my old, dear friend.”

“Of course sir,” and Revel, bowing, left us. 

“Unless, of course,” I said, with a sudden fit of humour, offering the Fool my arm, “you are of a mind to dance.”

“To dance, with Fitz? I thought you would never ask.” There was merriment in his eyes but behind it, too, the shadow of something like regret. “But I fear my bones will not co-operate tonight, although the tonic I have had so far has done much to restore my spirits.” He eyed me keenly, as he took my arm, seeming already stronger than when I had first seen him slumped in my chair not half an hour before. I knew when he spoke of a tonic he did not mean the brandy. Fire and brandy might warm the body but only friendship and the company of those you love can warm the spirit. 

“I have missed you, Fitz,” the Fool said with a sudden sigh. It was a simple and unguarded admission such as I hadn’t expected from him. He had always spoken more in riddles and taunts and challenges. But perhaps I had understood more of those riddles than I had wished to understand at the time. It was impossible, given this gift of sincerity not to respond in kind.

“And I have missed you, Fool. You have no idea how much.” Indeed, I began to think I had had no idea how much myself. “But come, you must meet my daughter, you must meet Bee.” 

Arm in arm we walked together towards the hall and I rejoiced in my heart that the two people I loved best in the world would meet at last.


End file.
